2nd Stanza Part 2.
Mugen can only take so much new information in before he wants a large comet to strike the earth. Thinking never really was his forte, really. So he takes in a few snatches, and there are certain words that glow and jump out of their sentences, as if they were made of fireflies. Fight, love... talks about... him... the words can-can in his head, in and out in on a fast rotation, giving his brain sharp pains whenever they kick their legs up.
But it's good pain, he decides, very good pain. The sentiment wins over all the others that have been warring for attention, even trumping fear at the mention of the word love. Because if you really thought about it, he'd wandered for three years without even coming close to someone like Fuu, so really, saving up for someone "better" was an idiotic notion. And if he could convince Fuu to let him cart them around... well then, that was perfect. If not...? He would think of something.
Fuu can't contain... whatever she's feeling. It's too much too sudden which sounds like a strange notion seeing as how she wished this every single day for about 3 years. She doesn't know what to do with her hands, she doesn't know what to do with her legs, her body moves in some erratic rhythm of her own in some bizarre effort to cope. She drives everyone around her mad, to the point where the old ladies at the pots shoo her away, only to call her back with trays laden with food just to make her stay out of the kitchen.
He's been watching the door the way a dog watches their owner ready their leash after hearing the word "walk", and his whole being shifts when she walks out with two trays on each arm and one on her head. Her hips sashay their way through the tables and he notices all the places where the curves filled out and in. If the Fuu three years ago was a cub, this here was the tigress. She set the trays down on the table and he tore his eyes away before she noticed his excessive ogling.
"Damn. And here I only asked for dango." It was a miracle he was able to talk, with the smell of the grilled meat wafting so deep inside his lungs that he wanted to roll his eyes back in pleasure.
"You don't want it? Fine, more for me~" She mock pulls the tray towards her, and giggles at the panicked reaction.
"Wasn't complaining." He grumbles.
They talk. And talk. And they don't really stop talking. Neither of them can believe that they're talking so much, to each other at that, but it seems strangely natural. She learns that he's been wandering around, doing odd jobs to earn his keep. He learns that she had started teaching the neighbourhood folks how to read, but didn't really have the heart to charge them, which meant that she had to restart waitressing. What he'll never say is that he almost had a proper job a couple of times, but every time her face flashed in his mind he got restless and up and left, as if subconsciously searching for her. What she doesn't mention is that she had thought of teaching after she dreamt of hugging Mugen every night, of her heart breaking at his expression when he had admitted he couldn't read, and his bravado when he concealed it. He doesn't mention that he carries the ukiyo-e picture of her in his scabbard, and that he wasted half of his writing practice paper in trying to capture her form from memory. And she never mentions that she after bidding them goodbye, she had gone to that wrecked church and searched for his tanto and kept in concealed on the other side of her waist in a sheath she had handmade and learnt to fight with. They both snort at each other like they are the most ridiculous things anyone's ever heard of, and they're both convinced that they're the last sane people left on earth.
He walks her home, and his heart almost crumbles at the state of the little hut she has staked out as her own, far away from the teahouse, and in a clearing short and equal ways away from the seashore and the forest. He understands the reason why she smells like ocean spray now, a siren-like scent that wafted towards him every time she moved, and drove him on edge.
She's embarrassed to show him the hut. She loves it, but it's barely a roof and four walls, and she knows it. She steels herself, banishing her shyness away, as she asks him if he wants to stay. He quirks his eyebrows, true Mugen style, eyes asking if she's sure. She nods, almost imperceptibly, and he kicks off his geta with their odd kerflunk-thump before stepping in. Her heart warms at the fact that he considers this a legitimate home despite its dilapidated appearance.
He could watch her all day. He drinks in her form as she flits from corner to corner, trying to arrange two futons in the tiny space while still keeping them with a semblance of distance and respectability from each other, and it's like he's wearing blinders so that his whole vision can see only her. When she catches his eye she beams at him with doe eyes and his heart contracts painfully in his chest. He knows the feeling well, but he's never been this happy to experience it, unlike before. He's decided.
She can feel his eyes on her, and she feels shy and painfully aware, but she loves it. She basks in his attention, joyful over the fact that she can keep his attention trained on her with the intensity of a hawk citing it's prey. She nearly buckles over a few times at the looks he gives her, but forces herself to stay upright and relatively unaffected. She has no idea how she'll get through the night.
